


Scientific Interest

by Stonestrewn



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonestrewn/pseuds/Stonestrewn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Bulkhead currently out of the game Miko opts to stay back at base and Ratchet is once again denied peace and quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scientific Interest

**Author's Note:**

> Went back through my old tumblr, found this written for some meme a while back and liked it enough that I didn't want it to get lost on deletion. So I cleaned it up a bit and here we are.

“You know,” Ratchet said, glaring down at the human crisscrossing her way past the instruments laid out on the desk, “I _am_ attempting to work here.”

Miko gave him an absent wave over her shoulder, not even craning her neck to meet his optics. She jumped over the electric scalpel to the stereotactic hammer, prodding it with her foot.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just looking!”

“You don’t look using your feet.”

“Humans do. True fact.” She prodded the hammer again. “We have like a billion tiny eyes on the soles of our feet. You need to hit the books again, doc, there’s a lot left for you to learn about human biology.”

Ratchet twitched in irritation. _“Doc.”_ Wheeljack and Miko spending time together was very likely the worst thing to ever happen to him.

“You can’t possibly be looking,” Ratchet said. “You’re wearing those-” he searched for the word, “shoes.”

Miko spun around on her heel, pointing a finger up at his face with a triumphant grin.

“Ah-HA! I knew you’d fall for the eye-foot thing!”

There was really nothing dignified to respond to that, so instead Ratchet opted for simply scooping her up and lifting her out of his work area before she could turn her attention to the fibre optic caliper. He shuddered to think of what her ministrations might do to its carefully calibrated settings.

The thought might have led him to execute his movements with a little more force than necessary, because when he dropped her off on a platform above she stumbled, landing on her behind with an indignant yelp. She bounced back up immediately, aiming a kick at his fingers before they had time to retreat.

“Hey, what was that for!” she shouted.

“You were making a… a ruckus. These are sensitive tools!”

“ _You’re_ a sensitive tool!”

She balled her fists and the look in her eyes was positively wild. Human adolescence was a horrible thing.

“Will someone _please_ distract her?”

There came no reply.

Miko had crouched down, dangerously close to the edge, arms wrapped around her knees.

“No one’s here. They’ve all rolled out.”

“Without you?” That explained the sudden scientific interest – a consequence of lacking her usual stimuli.

“Yeah. I didn’t feel like it.”

She didn’t glance towards Bulkhead lying immovable a bit further in, blanketed in the flickering light from the screens monitoring his vital signs. Her shoulders were tense from the effort.

Ratchet felt his agitation dwindle. It suddenly seemed misplaced.

“Right, I- Right.”

Miko was very quiet after that.

Concentrating was hard. It shouldn’t be – Miko was leaving him alone at last, eyes fixed somewhere far away – but the flow, the total focus on the task beforehand, refused to show. He felt like he should say something. He didn’t know what.

With Rafael it would be easier. They had a pattern of sorts by now, a protocol of silences and small talk, of spirited debate over technological differences and, on days when Rafael’s smile was fraying at the edges, of Ratchet hm-ing and tsk-ing in the right places while Rafael spoke, sacrificing some of his time to be the listener the boy needed.

Miko, Ratchet thought, didn’t need a listener. She needed words, actions.

“So,” he tried, after a false start expertly covered up by clanking his elbows, not knowing how to proceed. Fortunately, he didn’t have to figure it out on his own. The sound snapped Miko out of her uncharacteristic stillness and she peered up at him, breaking her blank stare. After chewing her lip for a moment, she gestured at the desk.

 “Did you use any of those things when you were operating on Bulkhead?”

“Well. Yes,” Ratchet said. “Some of them.”

“Which ones?” She had stood up, looking intently at the equipment below. “What did you do? How will it help? How does it all… you know, work?”

Her chin was set. Her brows were furrowed. She was putting things together in her head, adding one to one and keeping her synapses busy, piecing herself together thought for thought. 

It was a way of coping Ratchet could understand.

“It’s a long and complicated procedure,” he said. “With a long and complicated explanation.”

“I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Ratchet held out his hand in front of her, offering his palm.

“You can have a closer look while I explain.” He paused, raising a warning finger. ”With your _eyes_ only.”

Miko took a jump forward, holding on to his thumb for leverage. The wrinkles on her forehead smoothened out and gave way for a smile, one Ratchet found himself returning.

“No promises,” she said. 


End file.
